Web of Darkness
by ImpliedReality
Summary: Frisk had gotten so far; she had tried to be a good person; but King Asgore hadn't cared. He had a job to do; a kingdom to bring into the sunlight. Now in the care of the Spider Queen, Frisk will serve as the catalyst for the bloodiest conflict that Monsterkind has seen since the humans drove them underground all those years ago.
1. Chapter I

"Human…it was nice to meet you. Good bye."

The behemoth before Frisk let his head drop, as if steeling himself. A moment later, he whipped an enormous steel trident out from beneath his long cloak, glowing with an otherworldly crimson energy that mingled with the sunlight streaming through the Barrier. Asgore Dreemurr spun around and swung the weapon with amazing agility for a creature of his size, tearing Frisk's striped shirt as she leapt backwards with a surprised shriek. The King of All Monsters's head still hung low; he refused to look at the poor child he was about to violently rip a soul from. After a moment's hesitation, he set upon her with furious strike after strike, forcing the girl to dodge and weave around her much larger foe.

"I don't want to fight you…" Frisk cried softly.

The king stopped for the briefest of seconds, hands visibly shaking, before resuming his assault. Orbs of intense fire flew all around Frisk, trying to block her from escaping the monster's trident. She ducked beneath the weapon and bolted under Asgore's arm.

"I don't want to fight you!" the girl shouted at his back.

Asgore glanced back over his shoulder at her, but quickly snapped his gaze back to looking at the ground, hands trembling even worse than before. He whirled around, letting loose a burst of flame that caught Frisk's hair. The girl somersaulted to the side, frantically patting the fire that threatened to engulf her head, running in circles while giving the monster a very wide berth.

She was close. So, so close.

Frisk firmly planted her feet, skidding to a stop. Asgore glanced up at her sudden change in strategy, and she locked eyes with him. Clenching her little fists, Frisk spoke slowly and sternly. "I am not going to fight you, Asgore Dreemurr."

Tears streamed down the king's face. He clearly didn't want to do this; he didn't want any of this. The whole world had gone mad and he was just trying to keep it from collapsing into a bottomless void of chaos and hopelessness. His hands were trembling with such violence now that Frisk was sure he was about to drop his weapon. She took a cautious step forward, arms open as if to hug the beast-king.

"We don't have to fight." Another step. "There has to be another way."

The king dropped his head again. "No, there is no other way."

And with that, before Frisk could comprehend was happening, Asgore's trident plunged deep into her stomach. She could feel it piercing all of the squishy things inside; how it broke right through the other side as she was lifted up, impaled. The girl shrieked in agony. Asgore violently shook the weapon, sending Frisk flying and slamming against the castle wall, spreading viscera everywhere. The king began to slowly approach her, dreading what had to come next, despite having already mutilating the girl beyond all redemption.

"Do not worry, child…" he said calmly, trying to comfort her. "It will all be over soon."

Frisk grasped at the bricks of the wall, pulling herself up despite every fiber of her being screaming at her to stop, to stay down, and to just let it end; but she couldn't do that – she had come too far to just lay down and die! The child limped through the open doorway into the castle, one hand on the wall for support, the other placed over her belly, where the pain was the worst.

"Please don't run, little one." Asgore called out behind her, still advancing slowly, knowing she couldn't go very far. "You're only making this harder on yourself…and on me as well."

Frisk stumbled into the throne room, bleeding all over the golden garden that had overrun it. Seeing that she was actually making it much further than he had thought possible, Asgore sprang into action, raising his trident once again. Frisk screamed as the huge monster beared down on her and everything went black.

* * *

Frisk shrieked bloody murder, bolting upright, breathing heavily and breaking out in a cold sweat. Everything was pitch black; nothing but inky blackness all around her. She was so cold. A second later, the pain hit her; a deep, stinging pain that felt like somebody was pushing down on her belly with immense pressure. It was worse than any pain she had ever felt before in her life; completely overwhelmed, she let out a long wail, doubling over and placing both hands over her belly, breaths coming is quick sobs.

Frisk was so taken by the pain, she didn't register the echoing footsteps approaching; the creak of a door opening; the light of a candle as it was set down beside her. Somebody sat down on the edge of the bed beside her.

"There, there, dearie..." A cold hand began to rub her back reassuringly as another stroked her hair. "It'll get better soon enough. Here, drink." Yet another hand appeared in front of Frisk's face, offering her a small teacup filled with a viscous blue liquid.

Frisk hesitantly took the cup and downed the liquid to the best of her ability. It was like sucking on a peppermint-flavored penny. The drink quickly forced its way back up her throat; she coughed it back up, all over herself.

"Oh my…" It was a woman's voice that spoke to Frisk; that had been speaking to her. More of a girl's voice, really. Older than her though, certainly. A handkerchief cleaned up as much of the rejected medicine as possible, then offered her another cup full. Frisk's head was positively swirling. "Please try to keep at least some of it down, dearie."

Frisk took the liquid in little gulps this time, trying to ignore the sickness in her gut. A cold sensation spread throughout her entire body, both dulling her pain and numbing the rest of her senses so much that she felt like she was wearing a fish bowl on her head.

"There, isn't that better?"

Frisk tried to focus, to make out the figure in the dim light. A pair of crimson eyes looked worriedly at her…no…two pairs of eyes…and a fifth one perched above and between the others. The feminine face had purple skin and a small mouth adorned with lipstick, two little white fangs jutting out pointing downward.

"M…m….mu…" Frisk blabbered drowsily.

"That's right, dearie. My name is Muffet. And your name is…"

"Furrr…fri…skuh…."

"Yes, Frisk…good. Such a curious name for such a pretty little thing."

"Ah…as….gore…he…"

"Yes, that big brute of a king, well, he certainly gave you quite the beating, to say the least…" The spider woman looked at Frisk quizzically for a moment. "Frisk, do you not remember any of the conversations we've had the past week?"

Frisk shook her head, though it made her head spin.

"Do you remember…how you got here?"

The human wracked her brain for a moment. Past escaping the throne room, she really had no memory of what had happened. She shook her head again.

"Fair enough." Muffet sighed. "You were very badly hurt, Frisk. You're lucky you made it to me. To us. Asgore is going mad looking for you." She stared off into the distance. "But don't you worry about that mean king, dearie." The woman smiled in what was probably meant to be a reassuring manner, but the grin just looked slightly sinister. "As long as you're in my realm, he can't touch you." Muffet examined Frisk's hair closely as the younger girl processed what the elder one had just said. "We really must do something about your hair, dearie…so burnt and unkempt…"

"Burnt?" Frisk raised a hand to Muffet's, feeling her own hair. It was significantly shorter than she remembered and severely singed. Memories of Asgore's fire flooded back to her and she flinched involuntarily away from the spider girl's hands.

Muffet quickly hid the surprise on her face and simply looked at the human with soft, empathetic eyes. "You've been through so much. Rest, dearie. We'll talk again when you're in better shape.

Muffet eased Frisk back into a laid-down position and patted her on the head with one hand, pulling a blanket up to the younger girl's chin with two more. "Sleep well, dearie."

The spider picked up the candle and walked to the door, looking back at Frisk one more time before walking out and blowing out the flame, leaving the poor girl in darkness once again.


	2. Chapter II

The next several weeks passed in a hazy blur for Frisk – at least, she thought they were weeks. She really had no concept of the passage of time in her dark little room. Every day – or what she assumed to be days – Muffet would come visit her. The spider-woman would give her some food – always water and a warm soup with some sort of fungus chopped up into it – with a cup of the same blue medicine, empty her bedpan, inspect Frisk's wounds, and then replace the bloody bandages and dressing wrapped around the human's abdomen.

Muffet would talk soothingly, trying to distract the younger girl from both the pain and the wound itself. She would talk about the latest gossip from around the Underground – Mettaton's new band, the bi-annual Snowdin sledding race (won, of course, by the local Dog Regiment of the Royal Guard), the newest fashion trends in the capital; occasionally, she would ask Frisk questions about herself, about humans and the Surface. So, Frisk would answer to the best of her ability. She was eight years old, a fact which greatly amused Muffet for some inexplicable reason; she came from a village in the mountains of Catai known for growing marigolds and potatoes.

"Catai?" Muffet asked, blinking all of her eyes at once as she gently removed Frisk's dressing one day. She covered her mouth with a hand, giggling at Frisk's expression. "Everything we know about the Surface is from, well, at least a thousand years ago dearie. Sure, we get bits of human artifacts that wash down in the water, but other than that we don't know what it's like up there anymore."

"Catai. It's a country." Frisk explained, remembering her third grade geography lessons. That seemed like such a long, long time ago. "A big human kingdom."

"A human kingdom? There's more than one?"

Frisk nodded. "Aquillia, Ardashira, Catai, Khurasan, Nabhivarsha, Sikaiana, and Utawala." She recited the list, stumbling over the longer, more complex names. The girl remembered simpler times, when she was sitting in class looking up at the big map of Laudivasia, the World-Island.

"There are so many..." Muffet mused. "How did the humans ever defeat Asgore in the first place?"

"Back then," Frisk said, staring off, channeling the old tales and history books. "humans were more scared of monsters than of each other, so they put their differences aside for a while."

"But then they started fighting each other again after the monsters were gone."

The girl nodded again. "Humans like to fight. We once had a war that lasted for almost a hundred years straight. The Long War. The only reason it ended was because the countries started running out of people to fight for them."

"Yes, humans like to fight…but you don't, do you dearie? "

Muffet seemed to realize after a time that humans enjoyed light as well, and so she began to leave a number of candles burning in Frisk's room, which improved the human girl's mood exponentially. Her bedroom was spacious and rectangular, her bed nestled in the top left corner. Directly across from her was a vanity table; a candle sat on a nightstand beside her, casting dim light on her face, which she could see in the table's mirror. Her face was pale, her eyes hollow, and her hair a raggedy mess. In the middle of the long wall on her bed's side of the room was a large oriel window with a cushy seat nestled under it. Opposite of the window was a heavy wooden door where Muffet always emerged from. A few feet to the right of the vanity table was another wooden door that she assumed led into a closet.

So, Frisk simply waited, spending her days staring up at the ceiling or out the eternally dark window, trying to ignore the pain that, though dulled by medicine, was always there. It was still exceptional most of the time, hurting her to even move. Beneath this, though, there was another pain. A greater pain that she could feel inside of her, practically in her very soul. It was sadness and anger; hopelessness and hatred. Such complex emotions for a girl her age to feel. Frisk had tried so hard, gotten so far; she hadn't harmed a hair on a single monster's head since she had arrived in the Underground – that was a lesson her mother had always made sure she understood: without kindness and understanding, there was nothing. Both of her mothers had learned it growing up in the second generation following the Long War, when it looked like the world might once again dissolve into bloody, brutal conflict. Even if Frisk tried to be kind though, the world just beat her down. This depression settled over her like a dark cloud as she realized for the first time just how grim her situation was. Not only was she, a completely defenseless eight-year old girl, trapped deep underground in the middle of a kingdom chock-full of the deadly monsters of legend, but she was also grievously injured and being actively hunted by the highly dangerous King of All Monsters, with only Muffet and however many spiders were under her command standing between her and certain death.

After a while, Muffet started coming less often, delegating her nursing tasks to squads of her tiny spider minions. The first time the Nursing Squad appeared, dozens of them bursting out from under the door and window, Frisk had been terrified, afraid that maybe they were going to eat her alive or lay eggs in her wound, or something equally disturbing. Instead, a dozen of the little guys worked together to carry food to her and even replace her bandages, although it took much longer than it would've taken somebody with actual hands. Eventually, Frisk tried talking to them and found that she could indeed communicate with the spiders. They didn't always have much to say though, and quite a few of them were…unique, to say the least. A member of the Bedpan Squad, Zowie, seemed to have an endless supply of 'fun' facts about stool (and other forms of excrement) to spout off to her; the Medicine Squad leader, Jep, made many unsettling remarks about how Frisk was "pretty like a corpse". The leader of the Bandage Squad, a fellow named Abner, constantly chattered to her about happenings around the Realm of Spiders; whether this was to take her mind off of the pain or because he was naturally gregarious, Frisk knew not. Abner was the spider that caught and kept her attention most frequently; from the sound of it, Muffet's realm was a very lively and interesting place, full of gossip and intrigue.

"And sos I says to hims, 'black widow, I hardly knew her'!" Abner roared (in his tiny, squeaky spider voice) one day. "That's what I saysd to hims, I swears on my momma! Ain't that right, Jimmy?"

"He swears on his momma!" another spider agreed from the other side of the bed.

"And sos, he looks's me's right in da eyes – all of 'em – and says 'Abner, sober up. Dis is serious! King Asgore says he's gonna invade the Queendom'! And sos I says back—"

Frisk's heart stopped, her blood turning to ice. Abner's little mouth continued moving, but she heard nothing besides her own heartbeat and the roaring in her ears.

"Could you…say that again?" She asked Abner, trying to keep the panic from her voice. Abner gave her a funny look. "Asgore is going to…what?"

"Asgore is gonna invades Arachnia. He marched a bunches of his Royal Guards downs into Hotland to's the border and says to Queen Muffet, 'we knows you gots da human; give me da human or else we'll takes 'er by forces'."

Frisk blanched and began to feel very dizzy. Asgore was going to…invade the Queedom. If Muffet was the Queen of Spiders, then that meant Asgore was coming…here. People were going to get hurt; die. These nice spiders that just wanted to help her, they were going to be trampled underfoot by the Royal Guard.

"Do you think…he's going to do it?"

"Asgore is alls bark and no's bite." Abner said smugly. Several other spiders chimed in agreeably with "bark no bite, bark no bite". "He tried tos invades Arachnia twice befores – once whens Muffet's great-great-great-great-great—well, her grandmomma from a longs times agos was on da throne, and again whens her great-great-great grandmomma was in charge. Both times-es, Asgore got his fluffy fanny whooped. Ya' can't fights a spider in its owns web."

"Damn straight." Somebody agreed.

"So's don'chu worry your pretty lil' face, Frisk. Queen Muffet's gonna kick fluffy butt again this time."

Frisk nodded slowly, still terrified as the spiders finished up their routine, trying to hold a conversation with them so that they wouldn't know how scared she truly was. She waited with bated breath for a long while after they left.

She had to get out of here. There was no way she could let Asgore hurt all of these people…yes, that's what they were – people; they may be spiders, but they were still people, and no matter what their track record for repelling Asgore was, she was sure that this time he would succeed. She would leave Muffet's queendom and turn herself in to Asgore. It was the only sane option at this point.

Frisk took a deep breath, bracing herself for what was to come. She propped herself up on her elbows, inhaling sharply at the pain in her gut. It was still there, but exceptionally better than when she had first awoken in the room. The girl swiveled on her bottom, throwing her legs out over the side of the bed planting her bare feet on the cold stone floor. With an audible grunt, she heaved herself into a standing position for the first time in weeks. She placed a hand on the bed to steady herself as a wave of dizziness and nausea hit. The girl looked over at the vanity table, at herself in the mirror; she realized that her shirt was completely cut off below the chest, and that she wasn't wearing pants at all – a necessity in order to use the bedpan. She grabbed a bedsheet, folded it, and tied it snugly around her waist so that it became a sort of calf-length skirt. If she was going to die, she wasn't going to die totally exposed. Such a silly thing to be worried about at a time like this, she thought.

Frisk placed a hand on the nightstand, shuffling over to the stone wall and transferring her hand to that, the other hand placed over the spot in her belly where most of the pain came from. She made her way to the heavy door and cautiously turned the metal handle, opening it very slowly so that she could peek out. The girl looked left, then right, down a pitch black hallway. Frisk grimaced.

"Eenie, meanie, miney…" she muttered under her breath. "That way."

So, the girl set off to the left, hobbling miserably to her death without being able to see her hand in front of her face.


	3. Chapter III

Frisk was a very clever girl; Intuitive, empathetic, and adaptive. One thing she was not, however, was stealthy, especially not in her current state.

Maybe, if she was already thirteen years old and had been forced to train as a member of the Catai People's Guard, she would be nimbler and quieter. Both of her mothers had entered the People's Guard at thirteen, and both still attended training four times a year – mainly because the government mandated it, but still.

Frisk shuffled down the dark corridor, one hand planted on the right wall, unable to see more than a foot or two in front of her. The lack of vision amplified her other senses; she heard her own breathing and heartbeat; smelled the musty hanging miasma of dust and something else; felt the cold on her largely uncovered body. She inched forward at a snail's pace, terrified to make any noise for fear of what would happen if she was captured…or saved, she supposed. Muffet was intent on protecting her; the Spider Queen certainly wasn't going to just let her charge run off and sacrifice herself.

Why, Frisk could only guess. It seemed that the spider queendom – 'Arachnia', as Abner had called it – had been at odds with Asgore's kingdom for a very long time. She had assumed that Muffet's realm was just a part of the greater Monster Kingdom, but evidently it was its own independent entity that was used to defending itself from Asgore's aggression.

Frisk shook her head, attempting to clear her mind. She had to focus; this was no time to contemplate the geopolitics of the Underground. The girl had no clue where she was going and was, for all intents and purposes, a sitting duck. If she could just get outside, or even just find a window and get her bearings, maybe – just maybe – she stood a chance of escaping. Unfortunately for her, Muffet's lair – clearly an extensive manor or castle of some sort – was enormous and labyrinthine in nature. She spent a very long time wandering the halls aimlessly, passing doors and archways, choosing directions randomly at intersections; she spent an even longer collective amount of time frozen in place, paralyzed in fear at the sound of somebody walking – either the skittering of a true spider's legs or the footsteps of a creature like Muffet – or the echoing of a voice, trying to ascertain where it had come from and if she was in danger of being discovered. A few times, she could have sworn she saw a tall shape standing at the end of the hallway, a pair of glowing, odd colored eyes staring at her, watching her every move. She convinced herself that it was just her mind playing tricks.

It was truly Hell. She could feel her physical strength quickly draining from her as well as her resolve to leave. It was pointless, wasn't it? There was no possible way for her to navigate a path out of this place, and even if she somehow stayed hidden for days, scavenging food and water without being noticed, somebody would realize that she was gone whenever the spiders next checked up on her. The pain in her gut was starting to become more severe now and the cold was starting to really get to her, biting at her hands and feet, invading her unshielded body. Just as she was contemplating giving up, she stopped in her tracks, alert as a frightened doe in the woods.

There had been a sound – the rattling of a suit of metal armor like Undyne wore – followed by a long sigh. It had been very close. Just around the corner, probably. She could turn back and try a different direction…but did she really stand a better chance of getting out if she did that? Being caught was an inevitability as this point. The girl hunched over and slowly, ever so slowly, kept inching in the direction of the sound, finding that there was indeed an intersection. She could hear the idle sounds of the person as they shifted from foot to foot, scratched an itch, and just breathed. A guard of some sort? It would make sense for the Queen of Spiders to have some sort of Royal Guard. Frisk cautiously peaked around the right-hand corner, opposite of the direction the person seemed to be in, and tried to be as quiet as possible as she began walking down that corridor, hoping to come upon another intersection soon where she could move out of the person's potential line of sight – she assumed that the spiders had excellent night vision, which was why the manor was bathed in such complete darkness. She held her breath, thinking that maybe she was actually pulling this off.

No such luck.

There was the dreadful sound of metal on leather as a weapon was drawn. "Hey, you!" A brash, raspy masculine voice exclaimed. "Stop right there! Identify yourself, in the name of the Queen!"

Frisk made a split-second decision. She began to run as fast as her short little legs would carry, abandoning any and all pretenses of stealth. Thundering footfalls pounded behind her as the guard gave chase, still shouting for her to stop. The girl didn't care, she just ran; but she could feel her body beginning to give out now from sheer exhaustion due to her condition. She almost considered stopping and giving herself up, but she never got the chance.

Frisk felt her foot hit nothing but air before she comprehended what was happening. It wasn't until she was actually falling that she let a curse word escape her lips, screaming in terror as she tumbled down a flight of steps and slamming into the stone at the bottom. She lay unmoving on the floor, trying to will the pain away. The girl tried to force herself to her feet, but found her body completely unwilling to fulfil her brain's commands. Her terror rose as the guard descended down the stairs.

"The hell is this?!" he demanded, probably gawking at Frisk's sprawled form. The guard let out an exasperated sigh. "Little moron is probably a stupid quatrapalegio or whatever now." He said to himself, coming closer. "Intruders are supposed to be dead meat anyway; might as well put it out of its misery."

Frisk tried to brace herself for the end, for the blade that was going to be driven through her temple or neck, but found herself unable to. Instead, she felt tears welling up in her eyes and a choked sob force its way out of her throat. This was it. She was going to die; she would never see Mother or Momma ever again; none of her friends, from the Surface or the Underground; she wouldn't even get to taste ice cream one last time. Frisk was going to die bawling like a baby, consumed by darkness. She stared into the inky blackness and saw the same eyes from before, glowing in the dark but apparently unnoticed by the guard; she blinked, and they were gone.

"You there! Stand down!" a man shouted. Hurried footsteps raced down the corridor.

The guard heeded the orders, backpedaling several steps. "Your Highness! I was just taking care of this intruder!"

"This isn't an intruder you stupid brute!" The man hissed severely as a pair – several pairs, in fact – of arms closed protectively around Frisk.

"But, Your Highness-"

"Oh, for Arachna's sake! Just get back to your post!"

"Yes, Your Highness…"

Before the guard could even retreat, the man, this 'his highness', was off, striding down the hallway with the human child in his arms, muttering to himself and cursing under his breath. Frisk was still completely blind; the girl could do nothing but rest her head on the man's chest. She was so, so sleepy. They traversed several more flights of stairs and the man expertly navigated the corridors as Frisk slipped in and out of consciousness. Eventually, they entered an area where many lit braziers adorned the walls, lighting up the darkness, if only somewhat. Frisk looked up at her savior's face. He had grey skin with a slightly purple tinge, shaggy black hair cropped to just below where the ears would be on a human, and five green eyes that looked sternly ahead. The man could be considered handsome – at least by an eight year old human girl's standards – but bore no indicator that he was somebody bearing the title of 'Your Highness'. He wore a long dark blue jacket over a simple white shirt; hardly the attire of nobility.

They passed by a very broad archway opening up into an expansive room. "Mirabelle, we have a situation! Please come to my office at your earliest convenience!" He called out into the room, stopping for the briefest of seconds. Frisk spotted many other humanoid spiders standing around. She wondered where Muffet was.

They passed a few people who looked on in confusion at the sight, of a 'Your Highness' carrying a half-naked, bloodied and bruised child of unknown species through the halls, but the man either didn't notice them or didn't care. Eventually, they came to a wooden door with a large iron knocker; the man entered into a spacious sitting room. Past a curtain, Frisk spotted a long room with several beds. The man took her into a much smaller bedroom and gently laid her down on a low bed. She realized that this room, along with the rest of the little clinic, was lit by electric lights, not fire. The man walked over to a counter and opened a drawer, rummaging around in it.

"You poor thing." He said. "I never intended for this to happen. What were you doing out of your room in the first place?"

It took Frisk a moment to realize that she was being asked a question. "…Asgore." She stated simply.

"Asgore? You were afraid that Asgore was coming to get you?"

"I was afraid that Asgore was coming to get _you_." She corrected him flatly.

He looked over his shoulder at her, eyeing the girl keenly and smirking as he gathered the meaning of her statement. The man approached her, donning a pair of five-eyed goggles. Frisk smiled at the sight.

"That you for saving me." She said. "If you hadn't shown up…"

"Yeah, I help people." He said. "It's what I do."

"What's your name, mister?"

"Jerith." Muffet's voice came from the doorway. "Doctor Jerith Neith, dearie."

Frisk refrained from meeting Muffet's eyes as the queen entered the room. The woman seemed to have nothing but concern for her, but Frisk couldn't help but feel she was also angry that she tried to leave, or would be if she discovered that was what had happened.

"Just call me Jerith." Jerith clarified. "Or Jay. Everybody else does."

"Or 'Your Highness'." Frisk observed.

"Yes," Jerith conceded, "people do tend to use that to address the brother of the queen."

"Muffet, you never told me you had a brother."

"Yes, well, it really wasn't relevant. I intended to introduce you two at some point. Jerith here is the one that healed you when you first arrived. He's both a skilled doctor _and_ magician."

"Then thank you times two." Frisk said, smiling.

"Ugh, you taught her that silly nickname?" Jerith said, sounding genuinely annoyed. "Really, Mirabelle. You're not a child anymore."

The siblings leered at one another for a moment as Frisk put two and two together in your head.

"Wait…Muffet's name isn't Muffet?"


	4. Chapter IV

**A/N:** So basically I wrote the first few chapters when I was on break because I was bored and a wee bit obsessed with Undertale. Still moderately obsessed and people seem to like this. Hopefully more regular updates are in the near future. Also there formatting on this site just hates me for some reason, so forgive weird spacing that might come up.

* * *

"Ow…ow…owie…" Frisk mumbled quiet, involuntary utterances of pain as Jerith prodded her with a short metal rod.

"I'm sorry." He said apologetically as Muffet looked on from a chair beside the bed. "I'm not exactly experienced in treating humans. It's not like we see many down here." The man poked a particularly sensitive spot on Frisk's arm, causing her to yelp, swatting the rod away as she jumped. "Sorry!" Jerith threw open all six of his hands, dropping the rod.

Muffet giggled from her seat beside the bed, despite Frisk's condition. "Be gentle, but don't be afraid, Jay." She said. "It's not like you can hurt the poor thing any more than she already is."

"I think that's a very distinct possibility." Jerith said indignantly. "Human or not, she's my patient and I refuse to do her unnecessary harm if I can help it."

"So, why do you need to poke me?" Frisk asked bitterly.

"Well…" Jerith picked up the rod and placed it on the bed. "I've never seen a human in my life. I'm pretty sure no spider has seen one since Arachna was alive, and I'm highly skeptical of Dr. Alphys's work on them. Simply put, I'm poking you to see where it hurts so I can try to help you." He gingerly took Frisk's little ankle in his hands and squeezed it, causing the girl to wince. "See, humans aren't like monsters. Monsters are primarily made of a magical substance called victus; humans are mostly made of…water. I was only able to heal your stomach wound like I did because it was fairly obvious that certain parts shouldn't be torn or punctured like they were, but even then I wasn't able to heal you completely…" Jerith gazed morosely at the scars still present on Frisk's bare belly. "…as you know."

Frisk traced the battle scars likely with a finger. "I almost died." She stated solemnly.

"Almost is the important word there, dearie." Muffet consoled the girl. "I can only imagine the sheer willpower it took to get here from New Home in your condition."

Frisk tried to remember the journey back through Hotland, but found the memories completely lost. Why had she gone to Muffet instead of, say, Alphys? Come to think of it, why had Muffet taken her in in the first place? Before Frisk had woken up in that bed, Muffet had only ever been passive aggressively mildly cordial to her. Had her pocket-change offered in support of the spiders really meant that much to the queen?

"Well, you're alive now." Jerith said positively, trying to shake the girl from her foggy state. "And don't take what I'm saying to mean I don't know how to treat you. From the looks of things, human physiology is very similar to that of many monster from Snowdin – endothermic, four limbs, similar visceral and skeletal structures; it's actually quite fascinating."

"You see why he's a doctor and not a king, dearie?" Muffet asked with a snicker.

"I'm not a king because the succession laws governing the throne are matrilinear."

"Matrolinal?" Frisk cocked her head to the side.

"Matrilineal, dearie. It means the bloodline carries on with the women."

Frisk thought for a moment. "It's opposite with the human countries. It seems like a boy is in charge everywhere."

"Oh?" Muffet asked; it was her turn to cock her head as Jerith subtly jerked his head towards Frisk, sharing an unspoken conversation with his sister. The man moved to grab some supplies.

"The Emperor of Aquillia, the Badshah of Ardashira, the King of Utawala…Catai used to have an emperor too before the Long War, but the army got rid of him." Jerith returned to Frisk's side and began the task of applying a splint to her ankle.

Muffet continued the conversation as if nothing was happening. "Well, maybe that's why the humans are so divided – because they're relying on men to lead them."

Jerith rolled his eyes and opened his mouth for a moment as if he wanted to say something, but stopped, not wanting to draw Frisk's attention while he worked.

"Maybe, but is it really important if you're a boy or a girl when you're in charge of so many people?" Frisk mused.

Muffet looked at the human for a moment, studying her with an odd expression. "You're certainly wise beyond your years, dearie." The queen finally said. "You're quite intelligent for a child your age."

"Yeah, I, uh…get that a lot, actually." Frisk replied, watching as Jerith finished applying a bandage to a nasty scrape. The girl stared at the bandage with a puzzled expression before blurting out, "Why can I understand you?"

"I'm sorry, dearie?" Muffet asked uncertainly. "What was that?"

"No monster has been to the surface for a thousand years, right? Nobody except for the king's son?"  
"That's right." Muffet answered, unsure where this was going. She glanced at Jerith, who looked just as lost.

"Well, my momma reads this old poetry all the time – I can barely understand it because they talked a lot differently back then. Why are you speaking the kind of Catainese we speak now – why are you speaking Catainese in the first place?"

Muffet smiled as she understood what the girl was asking. "That's the Tongue of Babel, dearie. You see, when the monsters went underground all those years ago, they came from all over the world and spoke all sorts of different languages. So, King Asgore casted a spell that spread across the entire Underground – everybody heard every language in their own tongue. It's really quite amazing."

"It is." Frisk agreed. "Magic in general is really cool. Humans don't have magic…not anymore, at least."

"Oh? How interesting…but I'm afraid we'll have to table this topic, dearie. You're done there, aren't you brother?"

"Yep. I patched her up as best as I could." Jerith confirmed, placing his medical supplies back in their proper storage receptacles. "She just needs to rest for…a few days, at least. I really don't know how long it takes for humans to heal. It seems like the wounds in her abdomen seem to be healed for the most part, as far as I can tell, but her little excursion certainly couldn't have been helpful. If I had some better way of looking inside her than the goggles, I could be more certain."

"Those silly goggles let you look inside people?" Frisk asked.

"Monsters, at least." Jerith answered. "When I tried to look at you, it was just very…fuzzy."

"Excellent." Muffet clapped her hands together. "Now to address the subject of what to do with you…"

"I don't understand why you didn't let me keep her here in the first place, Mira." Jerith said.

"The chance of her being discovered here was too high."

"So instead you put her at the back of an unused wing without any guards? And let workers see her daily anyway?"  
"They were trusted servants of the clan, Jerith. Every single one."

"Well, what do you suggest now? Plenty of people saw her today."

"That number would've been much lower if you had, say, covered her with your jacket before bringing her here."

Jerith leered at his sister. "It's no use getting upset over it now. It happened, and it's only a matter of time before rumors start leaking out to the rest of the Underground. We need a course of action."

Muffet was silent for a moment, all six hands clasped together in contemplation. "We introduce her to the court."

"What?!" Jerith exclaimed.

"We reveal Lady Frisk here on our own terms instead of trying in vain to hide her."

"So, we're admitting to the Underground that we're harboring the human that Asgore Dreemurr is hunting?" Frisk blanched at the mention of her precarious situation, causing Jerith to frantically preform damage control. "Of course, there's no way Asgore would attack here – he knows that he can only fail, but still, announcing her presence doesn't sound wise."

"You keep saying Asgore can't win," Frisk interjected. "How can you be so sure?"

"You can't fight a spider in its own web, dearie." Muffet said with a smirk. "That's what Abner told you, isn't it?" Frisk looked away, afraid that she might have gotten Abner in trouble. "Well, he's completely right. Arachnia is vast and dark – only certain kinds of monsters can work and fight in the darkness, and even then they know nothing of the cavern's layout. Asgore has invaded this place twice – first with an army of five thousand monsters, and again with an army of ten thousand." Muffet giggled malevolently. "Both times, almost all of them were slaughtered within days of stepping foot in Spider lands. As with the war with the humans, it came down to numbers, skill, and terrain."

"…what do you mean?" Frisk asked after a moment.

As Muffet began to formulate a response, Jerith took over. "According to Asgore's census, there are only about three hundred thousand monsters in the Underground; there are so many spiders in Arachnia, we couldn't even begin to count them – the humans outnumbered the monsters in a similar fashion. While Asgore has fire magic and the brilliant inventions of Dr. Alphys and Gaster, we have complete mastery over shadow magic and our environment; likewise, the humans had metallurgy and an affinity for erecting entire fortresses in no time flat. And finally, while the fuzzy-folk of Snowdin are unmatched in the cold and the lizard-men of Hotland reign over the lava pits, we spiders can navigate our cavern with ease and even change its layout, while other monsters have difficulty even seeing. The humans used the environment cunningly and ruthlessly during the war, driving entire armies off of cliffs or chasing them to exhaustion through the desert. In these ways, I suppose, spiders and humans aren't too different."

Frisk had never considered factors like this. All of the movies and dramatized documentaries she had seen about the Monster War – the ones her mothers had allowed her to watch and the ones she had sneaked when they weren't home, at least – had been fairly simple; giant, organized human armies – Aquillian legionaries in bright red cloaks and silver armor; dark-robed Khurasani horsemen wielding curved swords; fierce, dark-skinned Utawalan warriors banging on their shields – all standing side by side to clash with hordes of big, terrible beasts led by a giant minotaur-like creature with a ring in its nose, wearing a crown stolen from the head of a Catainese princess. Most of them loosely followed the same sequence of events, but few had ever touched on topics such as geography or cultural affinities; when they did, it was emphasizing how the great human empires were coming together to function as one mighty machine – the farming of the Catainese, the industriousness of the Aquillians, the seafaring of the Sikainesians, and so on.

The human girl had evidently been in thought for quite some time, as she was broken from her thoughts by Jerith snapping fingers from several hands in her face.

"I was afraid you had passed out or something." He said, concern in his voice as he shined a light in her eyes. "We should really find you somewhere to sleep. You've had quite the adventure today…"

"Yes," Muffet agreed, standing. She took a lock of Frisk's dirty hair in her hands. "but first, we need to give you a bath."

* * *

Somewhere in the outer reaches of the cavern that made up Arachnia, a tunnel in the stone wall trembled. A long, angry sound echoed down and out of the entrance, a deep hissing. Slowly, a pair of eyes emerged from the tunnel's darkness, orange in color with elongated slits for pupils; they blinked, eyelids coming together vertically. A metal helmet emerged, somewhat resembling the shape of a human head, but with the forehead sloping back at an extreme curve and a handful of crests, like those of a bird, on top, and two slits through which its eyes peered emerged from the hole and looked cautiously in all directions.

"Clear." A raspy, male voice declared.

The create removed the rest of itself from the tunnel; first a humanoid torso with long, lanky arms that ended in sharp claws, followed by the extensive body of a snake, slithering deftly out and coiling up on the ground a few feet below. The entirety of the body was clad in dark, black metal armor that didn't seem to impede its movement. Three more tunnel entrances played host to similar births.

"That was almost too easy." The second creature scoffed in a feminine voice, although it appeared physically identical to the first.

"Don't get cocky, Thyxixa." The third scolded the second, its voice also feminine. "I'd rather not get paralyzed by a tarantula like Thalice."

"Not a fan of having eggs lain in your eye sockets, Lysixera?" Thyxixa mocked.

Lysixera's helmet, though it had appeared to be a solid chunk of metal seemingly carved and smooth to fit over the head, broke open on the bottom, a jaw lined with sharp, jagged metal teeth opening at an alarmingly large angle alongside a growing hissing sound. "Thalice was my friend you worthless garden snake."

"Will you two break it up?" the third creature, Zalysios, demanded, retrieving a small metal cylinder that had been strapped to his hip. On command, it instantly expanded into a long staff tipped with a deadly glaive. "The King gave us an assignment. We're going to complete it."

"And if at all possible," Thyxixa was almost certainly sneering beneath her helmet, "we kill as many of these degenerate insects as we can along the way."

"Well what are we waiting for?" Lysixera hissed. "Let's rip the soul from that little brat's body."


	5. Chapter V

**A/N:** You may have noticed this was put up then immediately taken back down. The formatting on this site hates me and must be punished. Can't get the stupid double line breaks to appear properly. Anyways. I finished this the night before exams instead of studying. You're welcome.

* * *

Frisk looked down at her feet on the cold, white, tiled floor of the bathroom, wiggling her toes a bit; her feet were blistered and bruised from all the walking and running she had been doing as of late. She lifted her gaze to the mirror above the sink in front of her. A filthy, ragged, abused child stared back at her, clothing in tatters and hair maimed; despite everything, though, it was still her.

"Frisk, dearie?" Muffet called from the other side of the door. "Are you alright in there?"

It took Frisk a moment to respond. "Yeah...yeah, I'm fine. Thanks…"

"Let me know if you need anything, dearie."

It had been roughly a week since Frisk had failed in her attempt to escape Muffet's castle, as far as she could tell. She had been living in an isolated little suite far from the royal court, but relatively close to Jerith's clinic, presumably where long-term patients were housed. This morning, Jerith had declared Frisk "as well as she would be for the near future", meaning that, through a combination of magic and medicine, she was able to walk on two feet and speak for extended periods of time without vomiting or fainting. Muffet decided soon after that announcement that tonight would be Frisk's grand premiere – she would dress the little girl up and present her to the royal court as a personal guest and friend.

A friend…

Frisk wondered how her friends were doing as she turned on the shower and stood under the hot water. Sans, Papyrus, Undyne, Blooky, Alphys, everybody. She hoped that they were alright, that Asgore hadn't come for them. Undyne and Alphys especially, given their close proximity to the king both physically and professionally. Then again, they also seemed close to him emotionally, and Asgore didn't seem like a bad person – just a victim of circumstance; hurting a strange human was one thing, but could he bring himself to hurt those close to him in the name of the kingdom? Frisk's mind wandered to her parents and her village. Her mothers were probably worried sick. She felt her heart begin to ache and tears well up in her eyes. The girl shook her head violently back and forth, trying to forcefully expel the thoughts from her head; getting sad wouldn't do anything. She just…had to stay determined.

Frisk turned off the water and stood there in the shower for a moment. Being dressed up like a doll and showed off to a bunch of spiders was probably the last thing she wanted to do right now; however, things that she did want to do – scream, cry, sleep, run, fly up into the air and smash right through the Earth's stupid crust – were all either impossible or pointless at the moment. With a heavy sigh, Frisk set about drying and dressing herself. Muffet had been nice enough to provide her with new clothes – freshly woven, she was told, from the finest silk. Clean white undergarments and socks, along with a blouse and simple pants, all white as snow.

Steeling herself, she opened the door, only to be grabbed suddenly and seated on a stool in front of a tall mirror. Muffet experimentally opened and closed a pair of scissors as she ran her hands through Frisk's hair, which, despite now being clean, was still uneven and torn in places.

Frisk placed her hands protectively over what remained of her shoulder-length bob of hair. "Wait! Wait! Do you really have to cut it?!"

"Of course, dearie!" Muffet said with a giggle. "Just look at it! We can't have you walking around looking like that."

Frisk made a sour expression, knowing the spider-girl was right. "Fine…" she conceded, looking down at the floor.

Muffet beamed at her, apparently not thinking she would actually get permission. "Don't you worry - I think we can salvage most of it, dearie. I'll just cut it to the bottom of your, hm, ears. How's that sound?"

Frisk nodded reluctantly, studying Muffet in the mirror as she went to work. Muffet's black pigtails were cute and well-maintained - she supposed that there were worse people to entrust her hair to, provided Muffet did her hair herself.

A thought occurred to Frisk. "Muffet..." she asked. "Do you have ears?"

Muffet looked blankly at the girl for a second before realizing what she was asking. She giggled again and brushed back her own hair; just as Frisk suspected, the places on both sides of her head where ears would normally be on a human were simply smooth, flat spots. "Spiders don't have ears on the outside like humans and furry-folk, dearie."

Now that Frisk thought about it, Jerith didn't have ears either – his short hair didn't obscure those spots at all; Frisk had just subconsciously filled ears into those spots because his already looked so human, except for the multiple eyes, especially compared to many of the other creatures she'd seen in the Underground. It was these strange, small things that somehow unnerved her more than the big ones – it was one thing to see a skeleton that walked and talked like a normal person, or an angry fish woman who suplexed boulders for fun; those things had ceased being surreal and were now just common to her by now, and most of those creatures acted like normal humans anyway. It was when she slowed down and truly observed the monsters that she felt uneasiness and paranoia tugging at the back of her mind, noticing all the little things that made it clear these things were definitely not human, no matter how they acted; in those moments, some sort of primal defense mechanism told her to run as fast as she could…but there was nowhere to run to, so she persisted and stayed determined.

"Frisk." Muffet said. "Frisk, Frisk…Friiiisk." She rolled the word around on her tongue, apparently not liking the sound of it. "That's a nickname, isn't it? Your real name can't possibly be 'Frisk', and the court will be expecting a lady to go by her actual name."

Frisk shook her head. "It isn't. My moms gave it to me because they say I always frisk about."

"Well?" Muffet asked after a moment of silence. "What's your real name, dearie?"

"I don't like my real name."

Muffet laughed again. "Oh, neither do I! Why do you think I always go by 'Muffet'? Whatever it is, it can't be any worse than 'Mirabelle', dearie, I'm sure."

After a moment of silence, Frisk mumbled something incoherently. With a bit of prodding from the older girl, she finally blurted out a few syllables. "Ming Li."

Muffet smiled, patting Frisk on the head. "See? Was that so hard, dearie?" The girl struggled with a particularly difficult knot in the human's hair for a moment. "I think that's a rather pretty name, 'Ming Li'. Not what I would have named you, maybe, but still nice."

"Would you mind just calling me Frisk?"

"Of course not, dear! But while present at the royal court, you shall be Lady Ming Li of…what was your village's name?"

"Dyuzhimin." Frisk said flatly.

"Pardon?"

"Everybody just calls it Duzy."

"Your people certainly have a particular way of speaking, don't they?"

"What do you mean?"

"Catai, Ming Li, Doozymon – all very exotic and peculiar."

Frisk shrugged, uncomfortable with the notion that she was somehow 'exotic'. "I guess."

By now, Muffet had finished cutting and was now in the process of brushing the human's shortened hair. "That will go over very well with the court. The nobles very much appreciate anything exotic. You will be Lady Ming Li, First of Her Name, Princess of Dyuzhimin!"

"I'm not a princess, though." Frisk frowned at the lie.

"They don't know that, though. It'll make you seem far more respectable."

"But Muffet, it's a lie."

It was Muffet's turn to frown. She then shook her head, laughing even more. "Oh, dearie, you're too sweet for this world. You would make such a delightful cake." Frisk shuddered at the thought. "I'll tell you what: since I'm the Queen of Spiders, everything in this castle is mine to do whatever I want with. I declare that this room is a realm named Dyuzhimin, which just so happens to also be the name of the place you hail from, that you are the ruler of it, and that your title shall be 'princess'. There! It's no longer a lie."

Frisk mulled it over for a moment as Muffet finished her brushing. "I suppose. If you really think it's necessary."

Muffet clapped her hands together jubilantly. "Wonderful! Now that your hair and title are sorted, we can find you a lovely dress!"

* * *

Papyrus jumped up and down excitedly, shouting fanatically; Sans lounged on a log behind him, seemingly fighting to stay awake. Before them, Undyne ferociously lifted a pile of three massive logs in her arms, smirking cockily at the bear beside her who was struggling to gather up just two. She threw all of her logs up into the air and delivered a salvo of punches and kicks to them, causing them to shatter into hundreds of little pieces that embedded themselves in the snow. The bear-man growled in frustration, dropping his logs and leering daggers at Undyne, before breaking out into good natured laughter. All around them, the logging camp had ground to a halt; a few men had stopped to watch the spectacle, but most had gone into Snowdin for lunch.

"Boy, guys, you sure know how pick 'em." He rumbled to the skeletons, drowning out Papryus's cheering, before turning to Undyne. "Gotta hand it to you, ma'am, you're one tough cookie."

Undyne grinned broadly up at the bear, who stood at least two feet taller than her. "Yeah, well you just need to train harder – soon, you'll be just as tough as me!"

The bear chuckled again. "Oh, training isn't for me, Captain. As long as I can do my job and put food on the table, I'm happy."

Undyne's grin turned into a frown; she obviously didn't agree with this philosophy, but chose not to say anything about it.

"Hey, Barry!" Sans called from his seat. "Why don'cha go get Corduroy? He's gotta be at least as strong as Undyne."

"You're name is…Barry?" Undyne asked. The fierce log-lifting competition had begun quickly and without time to exchange names. "Barry the Bear?"

"My parents weren't very creative." He said dejectedly. "Neither we my grandparents. Or their grandparents. I'm actually Barry Fedelstien the Seventeenth."

Undyne let out a long, low whistle. "Anyways, what about this Corduroy guy?"

"Oh, Cory? He's the biggest guy we got here. Total softie though." He looked in the direction of another bear who was in the process of devouring a sandwich that consisted solely of a still flapping salmon stuffed between two soggy pieces of bread. "Hey Barrett!" he called out to him. "You know where Cory is?"

The bear took an enormous bite of his 'sandwich' and spoke with a full mouth, splattering red flecks of meat all over the snow. "Dunno." He shouted back. "Baryl, you know where Cory is?" Barrett asked a bear sitting atop the roof of a bright yellow, tracked vehicle, reading a book.

Baryl shook his head. "Nope. Bearic, do you know where Cory went?"

Yet another bear lay flat in the snow, waving his limbs around in a futile attempt to make a snow-bear. Bearic lifted his head. "Nope, sure don't. Do you know where Cory is, Tim?" He looked around. "Where's Tim? Oh, right. Grillby's."

Baryl proceeded to begin relaying the information. "Bearic doesn't know where Cory is." This set off a chain reaction that went all the way back up the line until it reached Barry once again.

Sans, Papyrus, and Undyne watched the entire process with a mixture of confusion and amusement on their faces. "Sorry, guys. Looks like Cory's home sick or something."

"Oh well. Some other time." Sans said dismissively, pulling himself to his feet. "Come on, Paps. Let's get some lunch."

"Okay!" Papyrus agreed cheerfully. "Undyne, do you want to come with us?"

The fish-woman nodded with a smirk. "Sure thing. Where we going? Grillby's?"

"You know it." Sans replied.

Bidding the bear brigade farewell, the trio set off down the snowy path towards Snowdin, walking in silence for a while, with no sound but the raucous laughter of the bears fading away behind them and the crunching of snow beneath their feet.

"I like your friends, guys." Undyne said. "They seem nice."

"Yeah," Sans stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Barry and the fellas are pretty cool. Big tough guys too. But really, they're all just a bunch of teddy bears." He squinted his eyes and looked up at Papyrus expectantly. When his brother offered no reaction, he frowned. "Really? Nothing?"

"That wasn't really a pun, Sans." Papyrus explained. "They're literally bears."

"Yeah." Undyne nodded. "Not your best work, man."

"Oh come on. That's the whole point!" Sans argued as they started entering the town proper. "They're bears both in the literal sense and the—"

A rabbit-child rushed out from a side street, whizzing past Sans and almost knocking him over, followed by at least four more of the little critters, all shouting for the leader to wait for them. Looking around, Sans saw a number of people walking towards the center of town, converging on a single point.

"What's going on?" Undyne asked. "Do people normally gather like this on Thursdays?"

"No." Papyrus said uncertainly. "Where could they all possibly be going? I, the Great Papyrus, am right here!"

Sans studied the throng – everybody wore an expression of either worry or nervous excitement. "Paps, you should go home." He said. "I'm gonna check out what's going on."

"If you're going, then so am I." Papyrus snapped indignantly. "Besides, whatever's happening, it can't hurt to have two highly trained Royal Guardsmen there to protect everybody!"

"I think Sans is right, Papyrus." Undyne said. "Why don't you turn in for the day?"

"But its only noon!" the taller skeleton whined.

Undyne and Sans both gave Papyrus severe looks. He wordlessly nodded and set off towards home. Whether he would actually comply with their orders or not was yet to be seen.

Sans looked up at Undyne. "Let's go."


	6. Chapter VI

**[AN]** So, about those "more regular updates". I lied. I'm a liar. I've cheated you all. Also, it only occurred to me after I published the last chapter what I had done: I've made a character who is yellow with lines for eyes in-game into an Asian in my headcanon. I'm not racist, I promise. Also, I still can't get the formatting on this site to cooperate - any italics in the text cause all of the text to be italic, non-alpha-numeric characters cease to exist, and the text gets smashed together with only a single line-break between everything whenever I hit "save". Anybody have a solution?[/AN]

* * *

Furry-folk were starting to pool up in the town square, hundreds of them by the time Sans and Undyne arrived on the scene. Sans balanced on his tiptoes, trying to see over the rabbits, squirrels, and various other critters in the front of him to no avail.

"What's happening?" he asked.

Undyne shifted on her feet as well, trying to see past the throng. "I dunno; I can't see either. I think I see some guys from the Dog Regiment up there."

"So, what? The Guard is making a special announcement?"

"If they are, I wasn't told about it." Undyne frowned. She was the captain of the Royal Guard. Everything from Waterfall west was in her jurisdiction. Why hadn't anybody called her about this?

After failing to solicit information from a couple of nearby locals, Undyne decided to take matters into her own hands. She began to forcefully shove her way through the crowd, barking about "official Royal Guard business", while Sans followed close behind offering nods and casual greetings as they went. Apparently, not many people recognized the famous Undyne without her intimidating suit of armor; most just cast confused, annoyed looks at the fish-woman.

"What's going on here?!" she demanded, bursting through the other side of the throng.

Standing on a small wooden stage before them were indeed several members of the local Dog Regiment, standing at attention with their shields and swords firmly planted on the ground. Another dog – a black and white Husky – turned around to face Undyne, icy blue eyes flashing an annoyed glare at her before realizing who she was.

"Madame Captain!" The Husky jumped down from the stage and stood at attention, saluting, his cold steel armor strangely silent as his weight shifted.

"Aron, what's the meaning of this?" She demanded. "Why wasn't I told about...whatever is going on here?"

"My apologies, Captain." Aron said with a frown. "This all happened very quickly."

"And what exactly is this? I—"

Undyne looked past him, up at the stage. A large rabbit-man stood in the center, enormous arms tied behind his back, a black canvas bag thrown over his head. Floppy white ears poked sadly out from under the bag as his he looked slightly in Undyne's direction.

Aron simply watched Undyne's expression change from confusion, to incredulity, to outrage. "I'm afraid it's very necessary, ma'am." He explained. "This rabbit, he's….he's killed two men. One of them was mine."

Undyne blinked; once, then twice, looking between Aron and the rabbit. If one looked closely, they could see that the rabbit's fur was indeed matted down with a substance that could only be monster dust.

"Corduroy acted in self-defense!" the rabbit-man roared indignantly, his voice a deep, thunderous boom that rumbled across the town center. "Corduroy ain't done nothing wrong!"

Two dog-guards moved closer to Corduroy, swords drawn and poised to pounce should the rabbit descend into a violent rage.

Aron looked up at Corduroy solemnly. "We're waiting for word from HQ on what to do with him." He said flatly, his voice not matching his expression at all. "Since he's killed both a soldier and a civilian, it's unclear if he should be tried by a military tribunal or royal judge. Until we find out, we're obligated under King Asgore's Fundamental Laws of the Realm to hold him prisoner and announce to the public the crime he is accused of."

"Corduroy ain't done nothing wrong!" The rabbit rumbled again. "He was only protecting his flanny!"

Undyne shook her head, a little overwhelmed. It had been…ages since she had to deal with something of this magnitude. It had just been patrols and breaking up drunken brawls for so long that she was totally out of practice.

"Alright, alright, so…tell me exactly what happened?"

Aron grimaced and waved one of the guards over. A tall, grey dog with floppy ears and big brown eyes approached sheepishly. "Tucker, tell the Captain here what you saw."

The dog, Tucker, looked between Aron and Undyne uncertainly for a moment. His eyes dropped to Sans, who merely gave him a nod and a friendly "how's it goin?". With noticeable effort, the dog-soldier began to speak. "W-well ma'am, I was out on m-m-my patrol, o-over by t-the Akito T-t-trail, w-w-with my p-partner, R-rudy, and w-we heard a s-sound c-coming from the w-woods, like somebody w-was h-h-hurt." He paused and stared down at the snow.

"Go on, corporal." Aron urged him.

"A-a-and we w-w-went into th-the trees, and f-found a c-cle-clearing, a-a-and th-th-ere w-was a h-h-head and t-t-the b-big r-rabbit h-he t-t-took a b-big r-r-r-rock and—" Tucker broke off, clearly very upset. It was clear the poor oaf wasn't meant to be a soldier.

"And where's this Rudy?" Undyne asked. Aron threw her a solemn glance as she realized the situation. 'He's killed two men. One of them was mine.' Warily eyeing the restrained rabbit, she asked, "So, who was the other one?"

"We don't know." Aron stated. "He was a scaly from Hotland, as far as we can tell. We haven't been able to get anything coherent out of the rabbit, and as far as we know there are no other witnesses."

"So, if he…if those two were unlucky, how did you catch him?"

"He chased the corporal all the way back to the barracks in some psychotic rage." Aron shook his head, an uneasy chuckle escaping his throat. "It was…terrifying. Took eight of us, plus the big guy," On stage, a large, fluffy white dog rivaling Corduroy in size tilted his head in their direction. "to take him down."

The group stood in silence for a moment, the nervous chatter of the crowd washing over them.

"Hey, I know it isn't any of my business," Sans spoke, jerking his head in the direction of the throng. "but what are you gonna do about that? Something tells me the locals won't take kindly to one of their own getting punished over a Hotlander."

Undyne exhaled a long breath. "We'll burn that bridge when we get there."

* * *

A long gown flowed down Frisk's legs and pooled around her feet. She swished the fabric back and forth on the floor experimentally, frowning, as Muffet toyed with the poor human's hair. It was strange color that played tricks on Frisk's eyes – sometimes blue, sometimes purple, sometimes red, sometimes all three at once in varying capacities. The gown was made of the same material that most of the other articles of clothing in the castle seemed to be made of – silk; specifically, spider silk from the royal tailor, crafted exactly to Muffet's measurements of Frisk. It amazed Frisk how versatile the silk was – depending on the thickness and exact composition, it could be used to make everything from undergarments to blankets to ball gowns. She supposed it was a prime example of 'making do with what you have'; if there was anything spiders should have no shortage of, it was silk.

Muffet finished fixing up what remained of Frisk's hair, drawing it up into a bun in the back while leaving two locks of hair on each side of her head. The spider-woman clapped and laughed giddily as Frisk studied herself in the mirror.

"So, dearie, what do you think?" she asked excitedly.

"It's…" Frisk looked for a word, furrowing her brow.

"Beautiful? Amazing? Adorable?"

Frisk digressed with a smile. "I love it, Muffet." She said, wondering if it was a lie; she didn't dislike it.

"Wonderful!" Muffet grabbed Frisk by the shoulders and pulled her into the center of the bedroom. "Let's review a few things: if offered food, you…?"

"Eat it only with a fork made of white metal."

"If offered tea?"

"Drink with my pinky extended and in three to six second sips."

"And if asked to dance?"

"Politely decline and say that humans are hopelessly inferior dancers to spiders." This rule had been added only after Muffet had discovered that this seemed to actually be true, with several crushed toes to show for it.

"And if anybody says you look tasty, or any related adjective?"

"Remind them that I am a guest of the Queen."

Muffet pounded several fists into several hands. "By Arachna, you've got it, dearie. I think you're as ready as you will be."

As if on cue, three curt knocks came at the door. "May I come in?" Jerith inquired from the other side.

"What's the magic word?" Muffet demanded.

"May I come in please?"

"Try again!"

"May I come in pretty please?"

"One more try!"

"Mirabelle!"

"Fine, fine!"

Jerith opened the door and slipped into the room, closing it behind him. "They're waiting for you. I suggest we hurry before Ava Stithmal leaves with her entire clan. The Rositeshas too. And the Lefcorroras. Honestly, the Stithmals are the only thing keeping any of the eastern clans here."

"Relax, brother!" Muffet exclaimed, placing her hands on Frisk's shoulder. "You're making poor Frisk nervous. Look at how pale the little dearie is!"

Jerith grimaced, shoving a pair of hands into his pants' pockets. The prince was dressed in a very sharp midnight blue suit with a white shirt beneath. It occurred to Frisk, as she studied the suit, that she had never noticed how spider clothing had six sleeves to accommodate all of the arms. The color of Jerith's tie matched that of Muffet's dress, a dark magenta.

"Look, I'm sorry," Jerith addressed Frisk. "but I can't let you go out there without understanding the gravity of the situation."

"Jay! You insult her intelligence." Muffet scoffed, only somewhat jokingly. "She's made it this far – she outsmarted the Royal Guard and almost made it past Asgore himself." Frisk winced at the mention of the king's name; she hadn't thought about her near-death experience for a while. "She perfectly understands how much is riding on this. Don't you dearie?"

Frisk blanched and nodded slowly.

"Oh, Mira! You've just made her more nervous!" Jerith snapped.

"You're the one who wanted her to be nervous!"

"I never said that! I wanted her to understand what she was getting into!"

"Which she perfectly understands!"

"So why did you have to remind her?"

"Why did you have to remind her?"

The siblings took several steps closer to each other, eyes burning with anger. Frisk could practically feel the tension between them as they leered at one another over her head. She was an only child, but she had witnessed some of her friends quarrel with their siblings with similar intensity. The girl grabbed Muffet's dress and Jerith's sleeve, giving them both a tug. The two looked down at her sheepishly, as if they had just been scolded.

"I don't want to think too hard about it." Frisk said. "I just want to get it over with."

After a moment, Jerith nodded. "Of course." He looked back to his sister. "You should go make your entrance. After, oh, ten minutes, I'll bring her out and we'll present her to the court. How's that sound?"

"As good a plan as any." Muffet replied. After making a few last minute tweaks to Frisk's hair and wishing her good luck, she was gone.

Jerith let out a long breath and leaned against the wall, producing a pocket watch and studying the time closely. Frisk stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, simply staring at Jerith. The man was still something of an enigma to her – she had never really been alone with him, and when he was around the topic of discussion was always either her, the Underground, or the Surface. Leaning against the wall like that in his suit, looking down at the watch, Frisk might have mistaken him for a pale human if it weren't for the extra arms.

As if sensing her gaze, Jerith looked up at her and smiled reassuringly; though he was better as this than Muffet, the smile still exposed a pair of long, intimidating white fangs. There was just something innately predatory and malevolent about the spider-people that Frisk couldn't get past.

"Knock knock!" A little voice exclaimed, barely audible. Jerith stepped towards the door. "Knocks-ity-knocks! It's ya' lil' buddy Abner!"

"Come in." Jerith allowed the smaller spider entrance. Abner scrambled beneath the door, apparently never needing permission to begin with.

"Abner Petra, reportin' for duties ya' Highness!" Abner announced proudly.

The size difference between the two spiders was comical – Abner was no larger than Jerith's thumb. She wondered how the kind of spider that Jerith and Muffet were came to be as the two spoke, but that conjured up…unpleasant images in her head.

"Frisk, I believe you've met Abner before?" Jerith asked. Frisk nodded. "He and his family have been loyal servants of House Neith for a long time. You can trust him."

"I'ms gonna ride around ons ya head!" Abner declared, skittering towards Frisk.

"Yes." Jerith confirmed, seeming a bit unnerved by the smaller spider's enthusiasm. "Abner will be your, uh, lifeline at the ball, giving you any important information you might need and notifying Mirabelle or me if things go wrong. Just give him the word and we'll have you out of there in a flash." After a moment, he added, "Not that anything will go wrong. It's just, um, a precaution."

"I tooks good cares of you before, Frisk, I'll keeps takin good cares of ya'!"

"In public, she is Princess Ming Li of Dyuzhimin." Jerith informed him.

"Princess of Doozyman, got'cha."

"Just call her 'my lady'."

"Got'cha again. No worries, ya' Highness." Abner scampered over to Frisk's shoe. "May I, m'lady?"

Frisk nodded, and Abner monkeyed his way up the gown, onto her shoulder, and up into her hair. The girl resisted the urge to shudder, still greatly disliking the feeling of spider legs on her. Looking in the mirror, she found Abner nearly invisible while hidden beneath the bun Muffet had tied.

"Lookin' good, Miss Lady Frisk."

Jerith snapped shut the watch and pocketed it. With a quick glance at his own hair and a few awkward attempts at making sure Frisk's bun properly concealed little Abner, he opened the door with a flourish. "Everyone's waiting for you, my lady."

Frisk took a deep breath and walked out into the corridor. "Yous gonna do great, m'lady." Abner assured her, hunkering down for the ride.

"Thanks." Frisk replied, trying not to think of the arachnid nesting in her hair.

Jerith led the way, suddenly standing up much straighter and wearing a stoic expression. He wasn't 'Jay' anymore; he was Prince Jerith of Clan Neith. Frisk followed behind uncertainly, glancing from side to side occasionally, unable to shake the uncanny sensation that she was being watched. Their path was much shorter than the one Frisk remembered; before she knew it, they were going down a well-lit corridor line with murals, tapestries, and other ornate works of art depicting spiders and spider-humans. She vaguely remembered it from when Jerith had rescued her from the guard.

Frisk's blood froze as she heard the chatter of conversation. Muffet, Jerith, and Abner were the only people she'd spoken to for ages.

"Prince Jerith!" a woman's voice called out. "I have someone I'd like you to meet!"

"I'd love to later, Lady Deolia," Jerith replied cordially, "but I must be getting to the throne room. I have important matters to attend to – you understand."

Frisk kept her head down, glimpsing at the dark crimson and saffron dresses of the woman and her companion ahead.

"Of course, Your Highness. Forgive me for—" The woman choked on her words as she saw Frisk. The girl risked glancing up and saw the woman's shocked expression, all five eyes wide in disbelief. Frisk sensed no malice from them; simply confusion.

She felt herself stand straighter as she looked up and ahead, smirking slightly at their dumbfounded gaze following her as she walked past, and the dozen others that she solicited along the way to the throne room.

"Yous already knockin' em dead, sistah!" Abner whispered excitedly.

Frisk grew more confident, even flashing a smile at a man who dropped a glass of some deep purple liquid – presumably wine – to the floor in surprise, splattering it all over a woman's white dress.

Jerith and Frisk soon came to the grand archway that served as the entrance to the throne room, the royal court. Hushed voices chattered back and forth as a hundred eyes turned to gawk at Frisk.

"Ready?" Jerith asked in a low voice.

Frisk smiled, stepping through the arch, feeling like an astronaut stepping onto another world, the gown her space suit and nobles a bizarre alien race. "As ready as I'll ever be."


End file.
